Diamonds and Rust
by Agent Hellgirl
Summary: A story about the Vault dweller, the lone wanderer, from a different POV. It was just a normal day for Jericho in Megaton, and then she walked in, the goody two shoes. He can't stand her, so why does she chase after him like a puppy dog? Language.


_I've been contemplating posting this for a few days now, as I'm unsure of how I feel about it. Ever since I started playing Fallout 3, I've been so interested in Jericho as a character -- so naturally, I decided to write about him. And of course, I just couldn't help myself in having the idea of Jericho being paired up with the Lone Wanderer (as a female of course, though males might work too), so this story will eventually turn into JerichoxOC..._

_I'm still trying to get a grasp of Jericho, but so far it's been fun. I only hope you enjoy it, as short as this first part is._

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**DIAMONDS AND RUST**  
- o n e -

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Jericho didn't like the wanderer the minute he saw her -- she was a little goody two shoes who was sticking her nose in everyone's business. From the minute she walked into Moriarity's, he felt his stomach curl in distaste. She was wearing one of them fancy jump suits from the Vault (sheltered little bitch, wasn't she?) and she marched right up to the counter without fear. She had balls the size of boulders, but wouldn't you if you'd lived in a Vault your whole life?

When she spoke to Gob, she was friendly, she was polite, she was a damn angel to him. It made Jericho sick -- and not because he disliked Gob or anything, nah, the guy was pretty alright for a Ghoul. It was just that this girl was so _nice_. People weren't supposed to be so friendly these days, not when the the world was in shambles.

Patting at his pockets, Jericho sighed heavily. He could sure use a smoke, but he was fresh out. Perfect. Fucking beautiful, wasn't it? Not that his old, shriveled lungs needed any more of that cancer, but what the hey? If the Wastes didn't kill you eventually, you could kill yourself, right?

"Well aren't you a cutie?"

The girl had gone to Nova next, and Nova was being her normal flirty self. Jericho scowled, folding his arms over his chest. He had mixed feelings for Nova -- if your caps were right, she could give you one hell of a time. But that's all she wanted, caps. Jericho would never admit it, but he wouldn't have minded if she wanted more from him. He liked the feel of her arms around him, liked listening to her heartbeat as his face was buried between her neck and shoulder.

But in the end, Nova was just a whore. She didn't care for mushy shit like that. And most of the time, Jericho didn't either.

"I'm looking for my father," the goody two shoes was saying to Nova, not even bothering to speak quietly. "I think he passed through here."

"Your father, eh?" Nova asked, still giving the Vault dweller the bedroom eyes. "Maybe he came through here, maybe he didn't. What's he look like, sugar?"

Scowl deepening, Jericho tuned out the rest. He hated when Nova used that purr on someone else. Kicking off from the wall, Jericho started for the other side of the saloon to sit down. There was an ashtray on the metal table beside the chair he chose, and there was a cigarette butt in it, not all the way smoked down.

_Lucky me_, he thought dryly. But fuck it, he wasn't above anything. He picked up the butt, placing it between his lips without remorse. He pulled out a book of matches (he had plenty of them, sure, but cigs were getting harder and harder to find), and he lit up quickly, taking in a deep drag. His edge faded slightly, ebbing away as he relaxed, the nicotine calming him.

"Excuse me."

His bad attitude returned. He barely glanced up at the Vault dweller as she stopped in front of him.

"I ain't seen no man, kid," Jericho grit out. "If Daddy Dearest _was_ here, he didn't talk to me."

He took another drag of the cigarette, but that was all that'd been left of it. He dropped it into the ashtray without grinding it out, and he blew smoke out of the corner of his mouth. He expected the Vault dweller to walk away, but she maintained her ground.

And that pissed Jericho off.

"What the fuck do you want?" he asked. "Either say what you want to say, or get the hell out of my face."

The girl's chin raised slightly, but she visibly swallowed. It was all a front, this braveness. "What's your story?" she asked. "You don't look like a normal settler here."

"What's it matter to you?" he demanded.

The girl said nothing, but there was something in her eyes that said she wasn't going anywhere. Jericho heaved an irritated sigh.

"Look, kid," he said, "All you need to know is that I'm not a nice person. And I don't like nice people. I'm very much against the whole 'nice' thing."

Her lips flickered as if she were going to smile, as if she was amused by what he was saying. What irritated Jericho even more than that was the fact that this girl was kind of cute, in a plain and boring kind of way. Her skin was extremely pale (she'd never seen the sun, of course), her cheeks slightly rounded, and she had wide green eyes -- it was the kind of green Jericho had always imagined fresh grass to look like. Her hair was a little past her shoulders and a light brown color, and while she was obviously young, there was a part of Jericho that thought how much of a shame it was that she wasn't a whore like Nova.

"I'm Pippa," she said.

"I don't particularly care," Jericho replied. "I know people like you -- a little saint from a sheltered life, still trying to hang onto mommy's skirts. You're not suited for a life in the Wastes, kid, just go back to your little hidey-hole."

Her eyes had hardened when he'd mentioned her mother, but he couldn't be bothered to care.

"You know," she said, "You don't have to be such a...an asshole."

Jericho smirked, and he cocked his head slightly. "I bet this is the first time in your whole life that you've ever said that word," he said. "Feels good, don't it?"

Her cheeks reddened just slightly, but she still didn't walk away.

"I don't know what your damage is, angel face," he said, "But I'm getting pretty bored with your company."

"Jericho, being rude to our guests again?"

Smirk disappearing, Jericho sat back in his chair some, and rolled his eyes. Lucy West had appeared, and she was giving Pippa a smile she normally didn't have, a smile that said she wanted Pippa to do something for her. No one could be trusted these days -- it seemed like everyone had a job for everyone else.

"Blow me, Lucy," Jericho said.

It never mattered what kind of words he threw at her, Lucy always just brushed them off. She placed a hand lightly on Pippa's shoulder, and started to guide her away from Jericho.

"Hey," she was saying, "The name's Lucy, Lucy West. Have you heard of a town called Arefu? It's a little northwest from here..."

Jericho sat there for a moment or two longer, scowl returning to his face. As he climbed to his feet, he threw a glance towards the corner of the saloon. That weirdo, Mr. Burke, was sitting there, his gaze on the wanderer as Lucy pulled her away. Something about that guy had always made Jericho feel wary, made him feel like he should keep a good hand on his assault rifle.

"Is there some sort of payment for this?" Pippa's voice floated to Jericho as he was reaching the door, and he paused.

He glanced over his shoulder, and he smirked. So the kid was a sheltered little goody two shoes, but she wasn't completely dumb it seemed. Even Lucy seemed surprised that Pippa was asking about a reward.

One step at a time, maybe this kid could come to make it in the Capitol Wasteland.


End file.
